


Breath of Life

by JackMcGarrett



Category: Supernatural, The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Caring Rowena MacLeod, Dark Magic, Guilt, Guilty Geralt of Rivia, Mage Jaskier | Dandelion, Magic, Mute Jaskier | Dandelion, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Rowena MacLeod, Resurrection, Temporary Character Death, Witch Rowena MacLeod
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21998959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackMcGarrett/pseuds/JackMcGarrett
Summary: "You don’t get to die and be reborn the same. You come back, but you come backwrong. This is the price you pay for resurrection."--Life took Jaskier off of Geralt's hands in the only way it could; through death. Luckily or unluckily, depending on how you look at it, Rowena was there and made a choice.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Rowena MacLeod
Comments: 90
Kudos: 429





	1. Chapter 1

_“Damn it, Jaskier! Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, you’re the one shoveling it?”_

_“Well, that’s not fair.”_

_“The Child Surprise, the djinn, all of it! If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!_

_“Right. Uh...Right, then. I’ll...I’ll go get the rest of the story from the others. See you around Geralt."_

He strums on his lute as he makes his way down the lonely road. The path isn’t well paved and speaks about its lack of travelers. The scenery is unfamiliar but you’ve seen one set of woods and you’ve seen them all. Nothing that would inspire a new ballad. 

Every once in a while he finds himself humming his most successful piece before he had to force himself to stop. Geralt’s words were still very fresh in his mind. He’d waited for the Witcher for a while. Hours actually. But when it was clear that Geralt wasn’t going to apologize, Jaskier’s mind supplied him that he probably went after the mage. 

Jealousy coursed through him and he stormed off. He only made it as far as the next town. Making his way to the first inn he finds, he stays there until they kick him out for lack of funds. It’s then when he realizes that...he should move on. 

So he does. 

Or he tries to. 

His songs get booed in taverns and inns. He gains nourishment by eating the rotten or rotting food they throw at him. But his fight with Geralt leaves him disconnected with his muse. 

Those that know him and are keen on Geralt, request his _Toss a Coin to your Witcher_ ballad, and he tries his best to play it. He can get through some of it before he either halts to a stop, voice suddenly stolen, or it’s filled with the wrong emotion. 

Jaskier stops seeking monsters for inspiration to new songs. Partly because he no longer has the protection that Geralt once provided. The other part was because he knew that if he ran into supernatural trouble, he’d sooner or later...and with his luck it would probably be sooner, that he’d run into Geralt. Gods, he wanted to. But the words and harshness of how they left off stung greatly. 

He was tormented with his decision, but he didn’t see much choice. He cared a lot about Geralt. Even if the Witcher didn’t think of Jaskier as his friend, Jaskier was still his. He would honor his friend’s wishes...and leave him be. 

There were stories of a kingdom whose king banned all magic. Camelot, they called it. Uther’s people weren’t bad off, magic wasn’t allowed, and the knights were properly trained to deal with whatever poor beast ventured too close. He’s sure they would love a bard as lyrical as him. 

Camelot was very far away, however, and more so without a horse. 

It wasn’t beneath him to admit that he missed Roach. ~~As well as the horse’s rider~~. 

He made camp through the woods for nearly a month before he saw anything that resembled a sign of humanity. The only solace he took was that there wouldn’t be any bandits to hassle him. He chose to ignore the natural and possible supernatural threats that could have gotten him, for the sake of his own sanity. 

The farm he comes across is owned by a nice family. A father, mother, a young son who was healing from the nursing of another passing stranger. They can’t really accept his music as payment, so he offers to do some labor on the farms in exchange for some lodging and food. 

He stays longer than he intends. First, it’s because a storm comes in and lasts a rather long time. Then, little Oskar’s health takes a turn for the worse and he feels the need to be more than just a stupid bard. He ventures into the forest with Rowena to look for ingredients. 

It took him longer than he cared to admit to learn she wasn’t just a homeschooled medic of sorts, but a mage. At the moment, they both had the same goal so he pushed aside whatever ill feelings he had about magic and prayed it helped little Oskar live. 

It did. 

He sang to them that night, in celebration. 

His music was welcomed and cheered. 

He sang on the praises of the Red-Headed Witch, and he was sincere. 

With Rowena’s magic and his helping hand, leaving the farm became less and less of a notion for him. He missed parts of his old life, yes. But his fear of running into Geralt again and having another nasty spat won out. This wasn’t the worst life after all. 

Until it became the worst. 

Attacked by monsters. Or demons. Or...something. 

He wasn’t a warrior. He always relied on luck and Geralt. But he wasn’t here and Oskar needed to be protected. So he did his best. 

Sadly, his best ended with him choking on his own blood after having his throat slashed. He was terrified. The pain was horrible, but knowing that this was it added a dreadful aftertaste. He’d had nothing to show for his time on earth. His only friend hated him, and he failed to do anything to really protect his found-family. 

The pain ebbs away and the cold isn’t as harsh. Darkness takes him, and he’s still terrified. Is the darkness all there is? Has he sinned so much that he’ll be bound for Hell? 

_“Jaskier…”_

His name is being called but he can’t tell who’s calling him. It’s so distant. Unspoken. How does he know that? He’s not sure. It felt more like a thought somehow. 

There’s whispering. A lot of whispering by dozens if not hundreds of people. He wants to cover his ears but he can’t move. It’s dark and lukewarm and he feels compressed and smothered. 

_“Don’t ye dare die on me!”_

The whispers get louder, but they’re speaking gibberish. He can’t understand what they’re saying. They sound angry though. 

“ _Jaskier_!”

It’s no longer lukewarm, it’s hot. The numb is easing and pain is taking hold. 

There’s chanting now, just under the growing roar of the whispers. 

His body spasms and moves as if he’s possessed. He cries out, or he tries to but his voicebox has been slashed and he can’t scream.

Who would hear him anyway? 

Who would help? 

He can’t tell how long it lasts. It would have been minutes or it could have been years. 

Suddenly he bolts up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. He feels chilled to the bone and sluggish. His throat burns and he rubs it as he slowly stands and finds his footing. He’s so damn woozy. 

Was it just a nightmare? Had he gotten sick from one of the storms and gotten feverish? He cries to call out but his voice doesn’t work. Confused and disoriented it takes him a moment to notice the damage. 

It hadn’t been a fever dream. 

“Jaskier!” Oskar came out of hiding and tackled him. Jaskier held on to him tightly to keep him from seeing what happened to his parents. 

But where was Rowena? 

“Jaskier...your eyes!” Oskar gasped to him in shock. 

His eyes? 

He turned to where he knew there would be a looking glass and grabbed a shard from what remained of it. He blinked and even wiped the shard in case it was just a trick from the grime. But it wasn’t a trick. 

“Auntie Rowena!” 

Oskar’s cries cause him to turn. Rowena was bloodied but alive. Jaskier wasn’t sure if that was her blood or not. He approached her with more hesitation than Oskar did. She looked at him with sadness yet a bit of relief. 

He tried to speak, but couldn’t. So he mouthed, _‘What happened?’_

“I couldn’t let either of you die…” She said quietly. She looked down at Oskar, combing her fingers through his hair, smiling sadly. “But I could only protect one…” She took a breath before looking up to meet his eyes. “I’m so sorry…”

“But he didn’t die,” Oskar said with a confused expression that Jaskier probably shared. 

“But he did. I just...I was selfish. And I made a choice.”

He swallowed thickly as he waited for further explanation. She walked up to him and cupped his cheek in a very motherly sort of way. A touch he hasn’t felt in...too long. The memory of it was like an echo. So he leaned into it. 

Not sure how, but he knew that at the moment her eyes were the same as his. A bright violet. 

She looked up at him with a sad smile, “You remind me of my Fergus. I failed to be a good mother to him. And this...this was me...trying I suppose, to make up for that. But I...you are now of my blood.”

He scrunched up his nose in more confusion, _‘How_?’ 

  
“Through powerful, but _dark_ magic...I’ve given life to you. In a way, you _are_ my son. Died a bard, resurrected a mage.”


	2. Chapter 2

He runs his hand over the scar on his neck. Flashes of it being slit and blood gushing out resurface to the forefront of his memory so vividly he has to blink hard to chase them away. It was all like a distant dream he can’t fully remember, but also can’t shake away. 

Opening his mouth he tries to say a word, _any_ word, but nothing comes out. He swallows thickly as his lips quiver and his eyes glisten with emotion. 

Immediately Geralt’s face appears in his mind’s eye telling him to stop being a baby or giving a remark about how fate had answered one of his other prayers. A silent Jaskier. 

He shakes his head angrily, hoping to eradicate the thought. 

He can’t. It’s stuck in his mind, leaving a bad metaphorical taste. 

A tear escapes his eye and he brushes it away angrily. He’s allowed to be angry, he mentally argues. He was a bard! Keyword _was…_

It was how he made his livelihood since it was obvious to all those who saw him that he sucked at manual labor and couldn’t do much with a sword. Except probably hurt himself. 

Focusing back to the looking glass he tears his sight away when he notices his eyes have shifted back to violet. He blinks a dozen times and looks back but they’re still the same color. He wants to growl, but he can’t even manage that, so in his anger, he punches the object. 

Pulling his hand back, he hisses at the pain and stares absentmindedly at his injuries. 

“Yer emotions will cause yer eyes to react. They can give ye away.” Rowena says quietly from behind him. When he doesn’t react, doesn’t turn to meet her gaze, she steps up to him and takes his hand. 

He’d began to like her as a person. To see her beyond her magic. That was before and this was now. He knew it was unfair to blame her for this. As hard as it was for him to adjust, he was grateful to still be alive...or alive again. But he was different now and it was because of her. 

They did their best to clean up the mess left behind after the attack. As it turned out, the farmer had tried to protect his wife as best as he could. He died in the process but had saved her. She’d been badly wounded but with Rowena’s magic and Oskar’s help, she was on the mend. She’d take over the farm once she was better. 

Jaskier was still there to help until she was better, but he couldn’t stay. 

Logic reminded him that they would need help now that the farmer was gone. But he couldn’t remain...not in the place that had been his death place. 

He didn’t have anywhere else to go though. Camelot had been a distant dream he kept in his back pocket for a rainy day, but that was done now. He was a mage now, and one unable to control when his eyes decided to change color. 

He may not know what to do with his life now that he couldn’t sing, but he still knew he _wanted_ a life! 

“Let me teach you!” She begged him after she cleaned his wounds. 

He pulled his hand away as if it burned. Turning to her, he shook his head to her and mouthed, _‘No_!’

“Whether you like it or not, it’s who you are now! I’m sorry. I know it feels... _wrong_. But I couldn’t let you die!”

_‘But I did!’_ He tried to cry out, forgetting he can’t speak. His throat burns with the effort of trying to use words. His eyes were expressive, watery, and very brightly violet. Tears of anger and fear and sadness slid down his cheeks, _‘I died!’_

Rowena comes to stand in front of him, to grab hold of his shoulders, looking up at him imploringly, “But you came back _stronger_! Let me help you. Let me train you! You can have it all. No more _running_ , but _going_ where you want! No more having to rely on others. You can protect yourself, do what you want!”

_‘Sing_ ?’ He mouthed helplessly. Others may have scoffed at his profession. Thinking it useless, pathetic, and below them. And at times, maybe so. But he made his life on it. He also didn’t just sing in pubs or on the street! He sang for _royalty_! It was his passion! 

She raised her hands to his throat and he saw her eyes get a stronger, bolder violet. He could _feel_ the magic in the air around them. When she pulled back, she frowned and then looked apologetically. “I’m sorry…” 

He let out a breath through his nose and ended up scoffing a bit as he tried to turn away. Rowena didn’t let him and held him in place. 

“Magic and resurrection come at a price. Maybe yer voice was the price ye had to pay. But let me teach ye, Jaskier. And ye can speak _volumes_ without ever uttering a single word again.”

The promise of power was... _alluring_. Now that he had power within him. But he’s traveled and he’s seen what power has done and what comes from dealing with magic. 

More so he can’t help to think that now that he’s magic, he’ll have a higher probability to encounter Geralt. As unprepared as he was before this to see Geralt again, now he was even less prepared. 

Part of him wonders if Geralt would be more interested in him now that he had magic. But a bigger part of him squashed that notion. Said part reminded him of the things Geralt had told him, and the tone that he meant them with, and now it became more likely that he’d become something Geralt would hunt rather than protect. 

Mouthing words was painful when he tried to do so in long sentences. Especially if he had to repeat things, so he grabbed a piece of parchment and a piece of charcoal from his things and wrote down a note. 

_‘Will I be a danger to others and myself if I don’t train with you?’_

When Rowena read it, she nodded slowly. “I don’t mean to brag, but I am quite powerful. And much different than the common mage or witch. Using my magic to bring you back means that your own is an echo of mine. Though quieter in a way...still, it roars.” 

He scribbled on the paper again to write down his question. Even without saying it aloud, the sarcasm came through loud and clear, _‘So that’s a yes, then?’_

She rolled her eyes but nodded. “Yer an explosion waiting to happen, Jaskier. It’s a matter of when no’ if. I know ye aren’t plannin’ on stayin’. So I can’t know where or who you’ll be around when you do. Maybe it’ll be ‘round thugs and thieves. Or oh wee ones.”

He stares at her for a moment, both of them trying to speak with mere eye expression. Jaskier breaks away to write down another question, ‘ _When do we start?’_

* * *

“What’s the matter, bard? Cat got your tongue?” The server asked Jaskier hailed her for some ale. It was a tavern the’s been to before, so he was recognized by the regulars. He stares blankly before he sticks out his tongue and adds a wink. She rolls her eyes as she sets her drink in front of him. “Cheeky bastard. Where’s your lute? Not going to sing us a tune? It’s been a while since I’ve heard _Toss a Coin to your Witcher_...shall I expect it later?” 

He pulled down his collar just enough to show her his scar. Her eyes widened in shock and a bit of shame, “Oh gods!” 

He waved it off as he hid his scar again. He hated seeing it when he passed a reflective surface. It didn’t happen so often but he still liked to keep it covered. Stop people from asking. People always asked about scars for some reason. He pressed his index finger against his lips in a ‘shh’ motion and added another wink, but this time with a more tired smile on his lips. 

It’s been roughly five years. He’s checked because sometimes it feels like only _days_ have passed. Magic has slowed down his aging and things like time are one of the few concepts that are different for him. He still has a human mind, or way of thinking. Maybe it was his reluctance to accept magic that allowed him to keep said human mindset. 

Well, he was far more reluctant in the beginning. Rowena had her work cut out for her. After he felt a bit better and the magic really began to take hold of him, he was quick to anger. 

His magic took cues from his emotions and he had been a danger to be around. Leaving the farm had less to do with him wanting distance from his death place than for the safety of Oskar and his mother. 

Pulling out some coin, he pays in advance for a few more drinks and a meal. He wanted to fill up before he was off again. He hated being around familiar places, but it was the only way he knew he could get coin. Or rather, knew who to go to. 

When his order came, he got lost in thought as he went over in his mind of who he had to see and what he had to do. So lost in thought that he didn’t notice how everyone suddenly stopped talking when someone new came in. He took a drink of his ale, and too big a gulp and winced. Cheap ale used to be rough to swallow and now more so because of his throat. Logically and medically, he knows there pain shouldn't be there. Or at least be barely noticeable. Yet, he notices it a lot. 

“Brooding isn’t really your color.” 

Jaskier froze still, eyes snapping to meet Geralt’s. He felt like a trapped animal, his only solace was that he had enough control for the moment that his eyes didn’t immediately give him away.

Rowena had shown him a few warding spells to keep him protected from other mages once he explained a bit why he didn’t want to be pulled into their schemes. Partly because of his few interactions with Yennefer of Vengerberg but also because he couldn’t stand normal human politics, let alone the magical sort. In the process of warding himself, he had a few new tattoos, scars, and even a burned on sigil. 

Something told him it would only work temporarily on Geralt. He’ll sense his magic eventually. 

He wants to clear his throat but that’s become an odd thing now. So he readjusts himself in his chair and looks down at his food. He’d think Geralt would think this a blessing and just move on to whatever quest he was on. Or at least sit at another table. The tavern had guests but it wasn’t crowded. There was room. 

Still, Geralt took a seat across from him. Jaskier refused to look up and continued to eat his food. He paid for it, damn it. He _was_ going to finish it! Even if he could use magic to portal to places, he did his best to not use magic outside of ‘work’ ventures. So gods know when it’ll be the time he’ll have a proper cooked meal? Not him. _‘Stupid time disoriented sensation!’_

“Ale. And whatever he’s having.” Geralt called out to the server. 

She spared Jaskier a quick glance before nodding and going to fetch the order. While that happened, Jaskier wolfed down the rest of his meal, downed his ale, even if it was all rough on his throat, and stood. He grabbed his things and made his way to the door. 

He barely made it out before he heard Geralt’s heavy footing behind him. Back when he could still sing, he had an ear for just about everything. It always amazed him how someone of Geralt’s build and heavy footing could also be so sneaky when he wanted. Right now he’s unsure what to do with that information, he mostly just wants to leave. He’s horribly tempted to open a portal and go to the other side of the country. 

“Jaskier!” Geralt’s voice is demanding. 

But Jaskier was horrible at listening to him when they were friends, and now more so. He picked up the pace and hoped Geralt would leave him alone. Not having been one for emotions, Jaskier was banking on Geralt to take the hint so they could part ways without any awkwardness.

“Jaskier, stop!” Geralt grabbed his hand and pulled him to a halt. He forced Jaskier to face him. “What? You’re just going to ignore me now?”

He wanted to speak to him so badly. To tell him off for hurting his feelings when they last parted. To tell him he understood him a lot better now that he’s lived the life of a non-human. But he doesn’t. He _couldn’t_. 

Standing in front of Geralt, he didn’t feel anger like he thought he would. For a while, he had blamed Geralt for his bad fortune. For not being there to save him. For jinxing him for losing his voice forever. 

But it hadn’t been Geralt’s fault. No, it’d been his and his choices and karma or destiny coming in to claim any debt he owed. 

Still, being in front of Geralt wasn’t easy. Any anger he had was more so because he felt so alone in his pain and misery. It would have been easier to go through it if he had had a friend. Especially someone who could offer advice. Rowena was a good teacher, but he was still a horrid student. Fuck, he’s also missed Geralt, he’s just a bit ashamed to admit it. 

He pulls his hand free and tries to storm off. Before he could make it down half of the road, he’s blocked off by someone coming out of one of the alleyways. He tries to sidestep them but they step in front of him. Trying to go another way, he finds himself pushed back towards Geralt while they’re being circled by a group of men. Mercenaries or bandits by the look of their gear. 

“Well well, lookit here...Witcher and his bard.” One of them said. 

Geralt pushed Jaskier behind him as he drew his sword. “Stand down. We don’t need this bullshit.” 

“We don’t want trouble. With you, Witcher. Hand over the bard, and we’ll be on our way.” 

Jaskier took a step away from Geralt. He felt so horribly naked at the moment. No sword, no lute, no nothing. He felt his magic buzzing just underneath his fingertips but he pushed it all back. 

Geralt had a flash of hurt pass over his face when Jaskier stepped away and Jaskier wondered if Geralt thought he’d think Geralt would actually hand him over. Jaskier had stepped back to put more distance between him and the guy who wanted him. Still referred to as the bard, he wasn’t sure what he could be wanted for. A past crime or a new one, but he had no intention of finding out. 

“Hmm.” Geralt grunted as he got into a stance when he saw others ready to attack. 

And attack they did. Geralt pushed Jaskier out of it and began to fight. Being the more obvious hurdle, they all tried to take Geralt out. It might have been cowardly but Jaskier was trying to find a way to escape. He actually made it a few blocks away before he found himself pressed against a wall with a cold blade pressed against his clothed throat. 

“Where is Rowena?” The mercenary demanded. 

Jaskier’s eyes widened a bit. ‘ _Ah, so that’s it.’_ he thought. That made a lot more sense. Troubling sense, but it made sense. He’ll have to think about it later seeing as he had more pressing matters at the moment. As in, the dagger pressing against his neck. 

He wished he was better with a weapon or fighting in general. Or that he’d found some way out of it that was clever and had him looking like a hero. 

Alas, it wasn’t wit nor courage that helped him escape with his life, but his magic. The dagger pressed against his scar which triggered the fear he felt as he was dying. His eyes burned a bright violet before the was a pulse of magic that had the mercenary flying across the street. That magic pulse came with a kiss of fire it seemed. Just before he passed out, he saw the mercenary’s body scorched, as well as burn patches on the ground and on the nearby buildings, with random flames. 

It’s been a while since he’s used this amount of magic. It drains him of his energy. He falls back against the wall and slides down, unconscious by the time he hits the ground. 

* * *

Geralt ran in the direction that the blast came from. Dreading the worst fate for Jaskier. When he arrived and saw the burn marks and an unconscious bard, his stomach dropped. He rushed over to inspect the other man and gave a sigh in relief when he found a pulse. 

He looked around trying to see who or what could have caused the attack. It wasn’t the mercenary, that was more than obvious. There wasn’t anyone else around. No one except…

Propping Jaskier better against the wall he carefully lifts an eyelid and his eyes widen when he sees the color of Jaskier’s irises. Jaskier’s collar had also come undone and something catches his eye. Tugging it away to get a better look, guilt builds in the pit of his stomach as he sees the faded but present scar across Jaskier’s throat. 

With the sound of swords having stopped, the villagers’ curiosity was taking hold and their footsteps were approaching. He picked up Jaskier bridal style and began to make his escape.


	3. Chapter 3

He feels like he’s trapped in between the waking world and the sleeping world. His eyes flutter but his vision can’t focus. Sometimes he sees Rowena on the farm telling him about her magical abilities that were now the rules he would live by. Other times he sees her in a place he’s never been and she’s not looking at him, he doesn’t think she can sense or see him. There are lapses of darkness where he hears whispers he can’t make out, just like the night he died and was resurrected. That wasn’t odd, it happens to him plenty of times after using too much of his magic and he passes out. 

The weirder images are of Geralt and two other beings. The Mage Yennefer of Vengerberg and a child with blond hair. Sometimes they were together, sometimes it was a mix or just one of them. All different colored eyes but eyes like his now. With some bit of magic in them. 

He thinks he would worry more about the possibility of having to face Geralt after everything that’s happened. Personally, he just doesn’t want to. Once upon a time he loved drama...but he does his best to steer clear. 

No, what he’s worried about are the whispers. 

Rowena explained that naturally born magic users could hear the buzzing that came from nature. The source of magic power. Normally it would be a white noise in the back of your mind unless doing or being close to a very powerful magic user or on-going spell. 

Due to his resurrection, however, what Jaskier heard was more than just nature. The Veil between worlds that was normally only thin during certain parts of the year, was clearer for Jaskier who had technically crossed over to the other side. Those who could not be seen or easily heard were louder to Jaskier. 

There was a danger in him being used as a vessel or a puppet by some of the stronger or angrier voices. Rowena’s helped protect him from possession, however. With strict training, Jaskier would only hear the voices when he was completely drained, or when they were very loud and angry. 

_‘Where is Rowena?’_

Where _was_ she? 

Jaskier honestly didn’t know. She would find him every few months to catch up and make sure he’s sticking to his training. He made it pretty obvious how much he didn’t want to be magic. Though it hadn’t been his choice, it was now his responsibility to not explode and kill innocents.

She also cared. He begrudgingly had to admit that. In a very weird, and twisted motherly way, she cared about him. As if he were that son she claimed to have lost. 

He asked her about that since it didn’t make sense to him. As far as he understood it, Mages were sterile, like Witchers. She gave him a sad smile and told him that due to self-preservation, she made it to this world but wasn’t from here. Where she was from, witches could have as many bastards as they pleased. 

She even told him that if he were to find a nice girl someday, he could have a little wee one too. 

He wasn’t sure what _today_ had in store, he wasn’t going to waste time pondering about the future. Especially when he couldn’t figure out what _today_ even was… or if he’d even wake up today!

* * *

“Who is Rowena?” Ciri asked Geralt as they sat down for dinner. 

After Geralt secured Jaskier and his things, he put them up in a room for a day hoping Jaskier would waken soon. No such luck. He didn’t have much coin on him, so they couldn’t stay. 

Geralt secured Jaskier in front of him on Roach and began to make his journey back to the farm where he, Ciri, and Yennefer were lodging in. 

Halfway through their journey, Yennefer tracks them down magically and they use a portal to get back in half the time. That was two days ago, and Jaskier wasn’t waking up and Geralt’s concern was growing. 

He frowned at the name, only recently having heard it in passing when attacked by those bandits. “Where did you hear that name?”

“He keeps saying it,” Yennefer speaks, joining them. 

The farm owner was out on his rounds, his wife at the market and their boy tending to his chores. Which left the three new lodgers and their new guest on their own.

Geralt frowned a bit but then looked up at her with a bit of hope. When he saw the scar, how faded and deep it seemed, guilt knotted his stomach horribly, “He spoke it?” 

His guilt about how he parted with Jaskier wasn’t new information to Yennefer. Countless nights Geralt has been unable to sleep as he thought about his old friend. Not having come across him in any of their travels, Yennefer unable to track him magically, and not hearing any new song or wild royal scandal had left Geralt fearing the worst. 

She gave him an apologetic look, “Not verbally no. He keeps reliving a memory of a bandit with a sword at his throat asking for her.” 

“Hmm…” Geralt grunted as he poked at his stew. 

When they brought Jaskier into the house they stripped him to inspect his body for injuries. There were a few but anything recent were mere scrapes and bruises. There were nastier marks left and his knots of guilt reformed tightly. Mostly at thinking that Jaskier could write songs about himself and his adventures, Gods knew he had the cocky confidence to parade about himself. Or he used to. 

Some of the scars he thinks he can identify the monsters from. Others were made with blades or other instruments that he couldn’t. There were tattoos and markings, even a burned on sigil that he didn’t recognize. 

Not to mention that he now had an aura of magic around him. It was so potent when he focused on it, and yet it was vague. As if shrouded. 

“Any sign of him waking up soon?” Geralt asked Yennefer.

“It’s hard to tell. I’ve never seen someone like him before.” She was as uneased about Jaskier’s newfound powers as he was. But he suspects for different reasons. While he knows about magic to an extent, she was trained to master it. Geralt can only assume that Jaskier isn’t anything she’s ever seen before. He’s not anything any Mage in this world might have seen before. “ _But_.” 

Both Ciri and Geralt look at her to wait and see what she has to say. “His mind was muddled and full of…” 

While she seemed unsure of how to answer, Ciri tells Geralt, “Whispers.” 

He looked over at her with a raised eyebrow, “Whispers?” 

She nodded. “I can’t understand them. But they were a lot louder when he was first brought here. Now they’re silent.” 

“To you. In his head, they’re still buzzing.” Yennefer said uneasily. 

“What is it?” Geralt asked. “Who are the voices from? What are they saying?” 

She looked irked as she crossed her arms and shrugged, “I’m not sure. As Ciri said, the voices are unable to be understood. But also as she said, they’re quieter now. He’s becoming more conscious.” 

“That’s good.” Geralt commented. At the look she made he asked, “What is it?”

“Nothing.” She looked away, but at feeling both of their stares she sighed as she looked back and answered. “He feels _wrong_. Magically speaking.”

“Wrong _how?_ ” Geralt demanded. 

“I don’t know!” She exclaimed. “It’s not like any magic I’ve ever experienced. And there’s this... _aura_ , around him that’s like _death_. But it’s a very _thin_ layer around him that’s then coated in whatever magic he now possesses which is _so much_ different to anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Does it scare you?” Ciri asked her with a furrowed brow. Since she’s known her, Yennefer hasn’t been stoic by any means, but fear isn’t something normally found in or around her. 

“The unknown, when involved with magic, is always a cause for concern.” She replied. 

“This isn’t an unknown.” Geralt cut in. “This is Jaskier.” He stated as if that made all the difference. Which it did. He failed his friend once, he wouldn’t do it again. Especially since he seemed to be in some sort of trouble. “We get him well. We figure out what happened to him and who this Rowena person is. We’ll go from there.” He said as he stood. 

“Where are you going?” Yennefer asked. 

“Teaching Ciri how to masterfully hunt dinner. We’re low on meat.” He said as he gestured to his ward. “We’ll be back soon.”

* * *

Before bolting up in a cold sweat, Jaskier’s thoughts and dreams were nothing but darkness filled only with the whispers that kept switching from a hushed murmur into an overwhelming crescendo. 

He doesn’t know the language those voices are speaking but by now he could sort of translate what they wanted. Through his magic and just repetition and feeling. 

Rowena was in danger. 

Or she _was_ the danger. 

Both had equal amount of possible weight. Either way, she needed him. He got out of his bed and began to gather his things. It was when he was checking his belonging that he caught sight of Geralt’s pack. He froze as he remembered how he even got here, wherever here was. 

The house seemed quiet, so maybe he’d lucked out! He scrambled to collect his things before he headed out. The coast was clear and so he all but ran away from the farmhouse. He was a few yards away when his mind supplied him that it could have been a useful moment to use his magic. 

He told that part of himself to shut up. Using his magic had caused him to pass out. Using it again so soon _with_ all the frantic emotions he felt about seeing Geralt again would only lead to misery and dismay. And mostly from him. 

When he was at least more than an hour away from the farm, he stopped to take a little break. He reaches into his things to pull out his canteen and realizes he should have stocked up on water before leaving. 

Fuck. 

As he looked out for a water source he focused internally and tried to calm himself. 

_‘Rowena_?’ 

No answer. 

He took a deep breath and focused on her. Her petite form, her hazel green eyes, her violet magical eyes. He focused on that odd little feeling he registered as his magic, a ‘gift’ from her. His link to her. Once he had her image in his mind’s eye and that buzzing of magic he let out a powerful pulse and a loud, magical, mental roar, **_‘ROWENA_**!’ 

“Must you be so loud?”

Jaskier spun around, eyes wide, as he reached for something to hold. Only to open and close his hands awkwardly when he realized he had nothing. When he faced Yennefer his stance was clumsy and startled, but he straightened to become more poised and graceful as he glared. 

Yennefer didn’t seem bothered, more so amused. 

“If you were trying to be discreet and sneaky...that wasn’t the best calculated move.” 

Jaskier didn’t attempt to say anything. He’s slowly become used to remaining quiet, even if he doesn’t want to. 

_‘Who is Rowena? And how did you get your powers?’_ Yennefer asked psychically. 

This wasn’t the first time Jaskier’s spoken like this. When Rowena taught him, he felt delighted at first, but it was only really with Rowena that he ‘talked’ with any more. 

_‘No one. And what do you care?’_ He scoffed as he turned away and tried to continue on his journey. 

“She’s why you’re in danger,” Yennefer spoke aloud as she caught up with him. When Jaskier didn’t reply to her, she continued. “Geralt will arrive at the farm and notice we’re gone. He’ll come and look. Whatever trouble you’re in, Bard, he’s going to help.”

Jaskier stopped in his tracks and turned to her. His expression was confused and angry, which pretty much summed up the last couple of years. _‘I don’t need his help! I’m not helpless. I’m not a bard. Not anymore!’_ The last part was said with a lot of contempt. His nostrils flared and his eyes turned a bright, neon violet, the winds swirled with heat despite the time of the year. 

Yennefer looked around their surroundings, her own eyes becoming brighter, before locking on to him. Her face was that of wonder. 

“You are your own conduit. But it doesn’t hurt you. It...protects you.” She said in amazement. 

Jaskier calmed down because as she spoke, confusion won over anger. His introduction to true magic had been Rowena. She always told him they were different than the average Mage. He always assumed she was just bragging about her power level. The tone in Yennefer’s voice told him that he might be different for other reasons. 

Those reasons would have to wait because they weren’t important right now. 

_‘Go back to Geralt. Leave me alone.’_

“He feels guilty. He wants to understand how this came to be.” She told him, gesturing to all of him. “He wants to help.” 

_‘He helps for coin. He’s told me himself that Witchers don’t feel...and if they did, he wouldn’t for me. Except he did...the only feelings he felt for me were anger and irritation.’_

“If that were true he would have let you die.” She told him. The moment she must have been referring to was the time with the Djinn. When they first met her. 

But the phrased triggered something in him. The winds picked up again, the air felt unnaturally warm, small bushes and trees that were too dry immediately burst into flames. The whispers began to make themselves known, louder and louder as his vision blurred. 

He’s not sure what happened or how much time passes, but when he blinks, the area around him is scorched. Spinning around, he finds another figure standing just outside the blast radius. It’s Yennefer. She’s covered in soot, some blood, and dirt...looking at him with a mixture of awe and slight fear. 

He looks at her apologetically and calls out to her mentally with a single message. _“Maybe he should have.”_

Jaskier opens a portal and that’s when Yennefer reacts. She runs towards him, yelling at him to stop. He doesn’t. He steps through, not even sure where he’s going, just that he needs to get away. 

His adventures with Geralt are over. He now needs to focus on finding Rowena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, let's all share a chuckle at Jaskier thinking Geralt's just going to leave well enough alone xD 
> 
> I wanna thank everyone who commented and left kudos, you guys are amazing! I'm glad you guys are enjoying this! I'll do my best to update at least semi-regularly. My dad did take a bit of a bad turn health-wise, so I can't know when I'll have time to write and update but I'll do my best. (Writing this is my escape of the seriousness of his situation so I'm having fun with it and rolling with the ideas I'm getting)


	4. Chapter 4

Geralt was doing his best to train Ciri in weaponry to best defend herself, as well as be able to hunt. She was still getting the hang of things but with each day came more practice and better results. Today he wanted to help her become better accustomed to using a bow and arrow and hitting a possible moving target. 

They ventured into the woods and looked for signs of wild game. Eventually, they came across a small buck. With the time of the season, it wasn’t too odd to find it of that size, but they would have to hunt for more to have enough to feed everyone. 

Ciri was lined up for the shot, Geralt silently adjusting her form as she drew back the string and did her best to aim. Just before she released the string, a pulse of magic distracted them. The arrow flew but missed and got stuck in the bark of a tree. The buck bolted, from the pulse of magic or the hissing of the stray arrow, Geralt wasn’t sure nor did he care. 

His instincts flared and he immediately felt concern brew in the pit of his stomach. ‘Jaskier’, he thought. 

“Come on.” He ordered. 

Ciri went to fetch her arrow first before following Geralt back to the direction of the farm. Which wasn’t where the pulse came from. “Who do you think caused it?” 

“It either was or wasn’t Jaskier. But either answer doesn’t really bode well.” Geralt replied. They reached the clearing where they had left Roach and rode all the way back to the barn, only to find it empty. 

“Yennefer’s not here either,” Ciri commented. 

“Her things and ours are but Jaskier’s aren’t,” Geralt added with a frown. “Come.” He ordered as they went outside to Roach. They rode off in the direction that they sensed the pulse had come from. 

They were less than half an hour from the farm when a more powerful and far angrier pulse of magic exploded. Roach was spooked badly, to not fall off Geralt and Ciri had to jump off. Geralt being more practiced in things like this happening landed a lot more gracefully than Ciri. 

While she let Geralt try and calm Roach, Ciri continued walking towards the source of the explosion. She felt the magic in the air. It was very powerful. No, not just powerful. It was _raw_. She wasn’t sure how she knew it, but after training a bit with Geralt as a Witcher and being around Yennefer and her abilities, she’s gotten a sense of all their power. All of their magic. And this...this wasn’t anything like them. 

She closed her eyes and let herself focus on her instincts. Through her training, she’s gotten a lot better at tapping into her magic and getting a sense of it. This sort of power reminded her of something, but she couldn’t place it. 

“She’s calm, come on.” Geralt’s voice pulled her out of her focus and she frowned at him. She’d been close to remembering something important. Ciri holds her tongue, though she wasn’t used to it before. She didn’t fully understand Geralt’s relationship to this new mage, she only knows they were friends once. Friends that parted on bad terms. So giving Geralt incomplete information at the moment didn’t seem wise. 

They rode Roach a few more miles before they came across Yennefer. Geralt jumped off Roach and approached her, inspecting her wounds. Ciri got off Roach and walked a bit past them to see if she could still sense the source of power. 

There were echos of power but they were like the ripples seen or felt after the initial blast. The source of it was gone. 

“What happened?” Geralt demanded, and Ciri turned because it was rare to hear that much anger in Geralt’s voice. 

“He woke up and wandered off.” Yennefer explained calmly. 

Though he didn’t comment on it, Geralt did his best to analyze Yennefer’s state. He cared for her but he also wanted to read a guess as to what might have happened to Jaskier. It was hard for him to believe the clues in front of him that it was Jaskier who caused that magical pulse. 

Geralt’s eyes narrowed, “And you let him?” 

“I followed.” Yennefer replied cooly. 

“He was injured an-” He didn’t get to finish before Yennefer snapped at him. 

“I’m not his keeper! He also wasn’t injured! Exhausted from using power he shouldn’t have, maybe. But he wasn’t injured. And he’s an adult, Geralt. We can’t keep him.” Yennefer told him.

He didn’t seem to like that answer very much. They had a stare off and Ciri wondered if they were having a psychic argument so she wouldn’t hear. Eventually, Geralt scoffed and turned to his horse and got on. 

“Take Ciri back to the barn. I’ll come back when I find Jaskier.” 

“That’s not wise.” This time her voice wasn’t defensive, just tired. As if this was something she’s had to tell Geralt a million times. 

“Hmm.” was Geralt’s reply before he and Roach took off. 

“Does he even know where he’s going?” Ciri asked Yennefer. 

“I can only imagine that his Bard is in deep trouble. Which can only mean that no matter which direction he chooses, Geralt will find him.”

Ciri furrowed her brows, “How?”

“Geralt cannot keep trouble at bay if his life depended on it.” 

“What are we going to do?” Ciri asked, tone implying she wasn’t going to just go back to the barn and wait. 

“We’re going to make sure those idiots don’t die.” 

Ciri smiled before asking, “Are we going to follow Geralt?” 

“Oh please.” Yennefer rolled her eyes as she opened a portal back to the barn. “We’ll work smarter not harder. Power like that of the Bard isn’t easy to hide. Not from Mages. I’ll ask some that I know if they’ve sensed anything too out of the ordinary and we’ll go from there.” 

* * *

Jaskier wasn’t sure where he landed. He hadn’t had a specific location in mind when he opened the portal. His only thoughts were ‘ _Get Away_ ’. And that’s what he did. 

He made it a few steps before his eyelids got heavy. He stumbled before falling to his hands and knees. He thinks he hears horse hooves on pavement. _‘Geralt_?’ He thinks before he blacks out. 

* * *

The whispers of hundreds of voices and darkness were something Jaskier’s gotten used to.

The power of his new magic was more than what he could control, no matter how hard Rowena’s tried to train him. 

He knows and he understands how his magic is supposed to work...in theory. He’s memorized a good amount of spells even if he refuses to use them unless he’s ‘working’ to make money. 

Emotions drive him, like some other magic users, there wasn’t anything too odd there. But rather than being eaten away by his own magic, his body acts as a conductor. Not just to his own magic that Rowena’s gifted him, but any other sources nearby. They sense his emotions and act on his orders. Unfortunately, the only time he’s ever reached those levels of power, the only emotions he felt are fear and anger. So when the magic around him reacts...it’s with violent, fiery intent. 

And it drains him horribly.

In that state of magical draining, he’s connected. To what? He’s not entirely sure. The whispers used to just be. But the more he’s used his magic, the more they seem to recognize him. How or why or if it’s something he should worry about, he’s not sure. Sometimes it feels like the whispers provide help and answers. Other times there’s such malicious intent, he feels like they’re after him for crimes against nature. 

When he’s asked Rowena about it, she can only make assumptions. She brought him back using powerful dark magic. In her explanation, she reminds him she’s not from here and the things that are normal for her are odd here. And things that are normal here, are odd for her. She’d read into his magic to get a better understanding and try to help Jaskier grasp a better understanding himself. The most she could offer was that since he didn’t come into his powers genetically, the magic was sparked from the only source of supernatural power a human has. 

His soul. 

His soul which left his body, went to whatever afterlife he was meant to go to, and then dragged back through the ether and the darkness that existed between the world of the living and the dead. Sparked and revived with powerful magic. 

She really tried to implore the significance of what Jaskier could potentially be. If they found another powerful Mage they could form an official Coven. That was something that Rowena wanted very badly, but Jaskier shot down. He only wanted enough understanding of his powers to keep them under control. He had no intention to chase more magical power or get involved in any of the horrible politics going on. 

He realizes now that he was an idiot to not pay serious attention to what Rowena had tried to explain to him. His magic was getting more out of control. In the years that he’s been a Mage, which wasn’t many, he knows...he would have the occasional slip every couple of months. Usually when he was being chased by a monster who sensed his magic, or a bandit who sensed his coin. 

  
  


Two days in a row of unpredictable discharge? 

He knew that wasn’t good. 

Much less when he kept spending more time with the whispers. 

He feels himself waking. That moment between the sleeping world and the waking, similar to that space between life and death, Jaskier hears a word. A word of whispers he could finally understand. 

What the fuck he’s supposed to do with “ _Tree_ ” he has no damn clue. 

When he’s awake, he's aching and in an awkward position. It’s dark, cold, damp...and he’s chained with his hands behind his back. Chains on his wrist, his ankles, and around his neck. 

Staring into him are stern and angry eyes of an Elf. 

“Abomination.” The Elf seethed. 

_‘Good evening to you too, fine sir,’_ Jaskier thought with sarcasm. The Elf only read his glare of annoyance. 

The Elf spat in his face before leaving him alone once more. Jaskier tugged at his restraints but they were sturdy. Worse so, they were warded against magic. He hissed as he tried to unlock the cuffs magically and felt the reaction. 

Great. 

Being held captive was never fun when he was a simple bard. It was less fun when he was apparently an _abomination_! 

He’s been called a lot worse but for some reason, that insult really bothered him. Maybe because unlike any other insult he could brush off as an opinion of strangers, this felt more like a fact. 

He’s felt all sorts of wrong since he was resurrected and no matter how much time has passed, he can’t fully shake that feeling off. 

Jaskier does his best to sit back, but the lengths of the chains make adjusting his body awkward. Still, he gets lost in thought. 

Sometimes it’s his own. Other times he falls into a bit of a trance and hears the faint lisps of the whispers. Too far away and yet within reach of him knowing they’re there. 

_‘-kier. Jaskier!_ **_Jaskier_** _!’_

He bolts at attention and calls back out immediately, ‘ _Rowena_?’

_‘Jaskier, where are you lad?’_ He tried to focus on her. To see what her mind’s eye can see and give him clues as to where she is. She sounds out of breath but excited not in danger. 

Which he hopes means she can come and help him, _‘In a bit of a situation actually.’_

But she cuts him off. He realizes she’s not having a two-way discussion but just sending an outgoing message. _‘I found it! Jaskier I finally found it!’_

_Found what?_ He mentally asked himself before trying to send the same question out mentally. _‘Found what?’_

But again it’s like she’s not getting his messages. He wonders if the chains keeping him from doing magic to escape are also keeping him from sending out messages. Which only makes him wonder how he’s getting them. 

_‘A way home! We don’t have long, Jaskier. Come with me, boy...please, yer my family. Come with me! Before the next full moon,_ **_find me!’_ **

* * *

A few more times that the dungeon opens it’s to be talked at, spat, or beaten by an Elf. From the ones who want to get something out of him, he learns that they’re preparing a trade. Something valuable for them from Nilfgaard and in exchange, they’d get Jaskier. Apparently, only the likes of Nilfgaard would find value and use of someone as tainted as him. 

Then lo and behold and not very shockingly, Geralt bursts in. He’s covered in grime and blood and sporting that ever-present disapproving scowl. 

Geralt uses his swords to break the chains from the walls. Jaskier tries to use his magic again but the power of the chains wasn’t coming from the walls but the chairs themselves. He tugs on his chains to show Geralt they were still an issue. Geralt heads out of the dungeon for a moment but soon returns with a set of keys. 

They find the ones to the chains and then Geralt’s firmly holding on to Jaskier’s wrist and leading him outside, and hopefully to freedom and not his death. He and Geralt had a few good runs with plenty of close calls but a lot of things have changed since then. He, for example, changed species. 

The next time he dies, he wants it to be natural and not via murder, thank you very much!

They reach Roach and escape on her into the night. 

He hears a voice as they escape, however. It wasn’t the whispers, it wasn’t Yennefer nor Rowena. 

_“Neither Yennefer of Vengerberg or the Witcher can protect you forever...you won’t escape again. Destiny_ **_will_ ** _be met.”_

* * *

They eventually stop once there’s enough distance that Geralt deems it safe. While Geralt busy’s himself with making a fire in the dark, Jaskier finds the roots of a tree and nestles between them. 

He does his best not to think. That in itself wasn’t so hard, what he really should be stopping himself from doing is not feel. 

He’s never been a fighter, not really. But he feels like all of this is building up for a grand fight and he doesn’t want to be part of it. 

He’s scared. 

He doesn’t do well when he’s scared. 

Jaskier nearly jumps out of his skin when Geralt grabs his hand. Geralt loosens his hold but doesn’t let go as he meets Jaskier’s eyes. They’re far more sincere and gentle than they’ve ever been...well, when looking at him. 

“Does it hurt?” 

Jaskier doesn’t understand the question at first until he looks down and sees the burn marks the chains left behind. They were an angry red color with a sensation to match. He tugs his hands away but Geralt just reaches for them again. 

“I have some salve that will help.” He reaches into one of his pouches for said salve. It burns and aches, so Jaskier doesn’t move away. When Geralt is confident he won’t, he lets go of Jaskier’s hand to uncap the salve and gently place it on the burn marks. 

When he’s done, Jaskier tugs his arms away from Geralt and tries to scoot away, turning to look away from the Witcher. He wanted to be mature. To be a different Jaskier from the one that Geralt last saw. 

And he was, but not in the ways he had wished. 

Feelings of fear and grief and resentment began to bubble in his chest. Geralt had always been a brood but Jaskier had thought of them as friends! And gods, did he feel betrayed! 

If he looked at Geralt, he would explode. Since he couldn’t with words, he feared he’d do so with magic. 

“Jaskier…” Geralt whispered imploringly. 

Jaskier stubbornly refused to turn to look at him. 

“Jaskier. Look at me. Please.” 

At the word please; hot, burning, angry tears began to fall from his eyes and he couldn’t stop them. His throat ached and began to burn as well as if he’d been yelling for hours. He snapped his head towards Geralt and tried to glare. Key word _try_. 

In all honesty, he looked like a kicked puppy. But the tears did hold anger and resentment after all. 

He stood, though he stumbled but fuck it, no one’s ever surprised if he’s lacking in dignity or grace. He doesn’t get far before Geralt’s reaching for him again, by his elbow this time. Jaskier pulls his arm free and turns to glare, silently screaming ‘LEAVE ME ALONE!’ 

He only mouths the words, doesn’t use his magic to telepathically yell them at Geralt. Jaskier’s confident that with his keen, supernatural eyes, Geralt got it. 

“It’s dark. It’s dangerous out there. And they want you. You’re safer with me.” Geralt told him, trying to stick to logical facts, but his eyes were begging his friend to stay. 

His throat burns from the desire to cry. So he summons a piece of parchment and some charcoal and writes out a message for Geralt to read. 

_‘What do you care about my safety?’_

Geralt takes the paper with a raised eyebrow but reads it, frowning more. He looks up at Jaskier with an unreadable expression.

“I care about your life, Jaskier.” 

Jaskier snatches back the piece of parchment and begins to scribble down his thoughts madly. It takes him a moment because he’s got a lot to write. 

_My life! HA! You only do because despite the shit you’ve said about destiny you believe in it and think you’ve cast mine. Well, you have! I_ _DIED_ _! Fate freed you of me. So the life you claim to care about has gone, Witcher! You’re free of your responsibility of me! I wasn’t ever really your friend anyway. Not that Witchers even care in the first place!_ _Your_ _words!_

While Geralt reads what Jaskier wrote, Jaskier begins to stalk off. 

But Geralt’s words make him pause. “I didn’t mean it.”

_You still said it_. Jaskier thought to himself. 

Jaskier walked back to Geralt and took the piece of paper to write down one last thing. 

_‘Be careful what you wish for.’_

He began to walk away again. He made it a few minutes on his own before he felt Geralt and Roach’s presence behind him. 

He had no idea where he was going, but he knew it was going to be a long trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol does this chapter show how salty I am about how Geralt left things with Jaskier???
> 
> Things have been hella hectic in my life but all of your guy's comments have been such a delight. I'm so surprised but delighted that you guys are diggin' this! <3 Much love!


	5. Chapter 5

“Do you have any idea of where you’re going?” Geralt asked finally. 

Jaskier was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to speak again. With Geralt, he could never be sure. He was one hell of a brooder and it’d always been Jaskier to fill in the silence. Now that he couldn’t, he half expected their journey to be silent, only to have said silence interrupted by Roach alerting them that she was hungry or thirsty. 

He ignored Geralt’s question. Very partially because he didn’t have a clue, but mostly out of spite. 

“Jaskier.” Geralt spoke his name with authority.

Jaskier scoffed and rolls his eyes. Even when he had a voice and they were friends, that wouldn’t have worked on him. Jaskier took rules more as suggestions than absolutes. 

Truth be told, he only had a slight idea of where he was going. 

He was going towards Rowena!

Actual coordinates for the red-headed witch weren’t available though. It was a feeling inside of him that he was trusting. He could very well be leading them to danger or to riches or to nothing. He wasn’t sure. But even if that feeling inside of him wasn’t overly obvious and hard to focus on, he felt it and did as it asked. 

Had they’d been on better terms he’d have explained this to Geralt, but they weren’t. The Witcher wasn’t privy to the inner machinations of Jaskier’s mind, nor would he. 

_‘A way home._ ’ Rowena had said in her message. 

Where exactly was home for her? She’s never mentioned, but he got a feeling that it wasn’t just a visiting kingdom. 

His feelings regarding her were a bit complicated but she was someone he trusted. For all he doubted her and her intentions, she cared about him. She thought of him as a son and in some morbid magical way, he was. So how would he feel about her leaving? Would he be okay not having her in his life anymore? Did he feel he couldn’t do this new life without her to guide him that he’d follow her to wherever her home was? Would he feel too conflicted leaving this world? Who had he really to worry about leaving behind? 

_Geralt_. His traitorous mind supplied. He was still upset with the Witcher. Hell, he was angry! But as he thought about it, thought about Rowena opening some portal to another world away from this one...what would make him hesitate? 

  
  


“Jaskier?” 

He blinks when Geralt’s voice brings him out of his thoughts. Looking up ahead he sees that the single path they’ve been traveling on branches off into a few different directions. He studies all of them and it takes him a moment to decide. 

The chains that held him were still slightly affecting his magic. Not blocking it but maybe because of his inexperience, he was having a harder time getting the reigns back.

He tried to get a feel for Rowena’s magic, and eventually, he catches a sense of it. But on another path’s trail, he feels something. Something alluring that for a blink, pulls him. Almost literally so he staggers a bit. 

Geralt’s keen eyes are observing him so he catches it, and leans forward to grab Jackier’s shoulder to help steady him. 

“What is it?” Geralt asks as he tries to see whatever danger or source of power might have caused the slip. 

Jaskier pulls away from Geralt’s hold and shakes his head before making a step towards the path that would lead him to Rowena. 

* * *

  
  


“I was wondering if I’d see you before too long.” Tissaia greeted Yenneifer and Ciri as they entered. 

“Have your scrying methods failed you?” Yennefer asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Tissaia rolled her eyes a bit before standing from her desk. “You don’t deny then, that the abomination is something you’re involved with?” 

“Yes and no.” Yennefer answered. 

“If you’re here to ask for help, Piglet, spit it out. We have work to do even if you don’t.”

“What makes him an abomination?” Ciri interrupted. She was used to ‘battle of wits’ like these but they bored her easily enough when she lived in her grandmother’s court, and more so now. 

Tissaia looked from Yennefer to Ciri and back again to the Sorceress. “You’ve never been very good at accepting my advice the first time around. So why don’t I give you the generics now and wait for you to see sense and come back later? There are rules set by nature, an order that must be preserved, we are the ones who have trained and understood magic in it’s truest forms. Make of that what you will, and until next time, Piglet.” 

With that, she left the two before disappearing somewhere else. 

“That was unhelpful.” Ciri deadpanned. She then looked at the brunette. “What now? Do we try and use a tracking spell or something on Geralt and his friend?” 

“Not quite. You have to learn to listen to what is said and what isn’t said during these sorts of meetings.” Yennefer told her. 

Ciri made a confused face, “What wasn’t said? What didn’t she say?” 

“That she’s worried. Not that she would. No one with power will ever really admit being worried.” Yennefer answered. 

“Then how do you know she is?” Ciri questioned. 

“When people in power speak about how certain ways are or have been for a long time, and within that time have played to their strengths and help keep them in power, and how change can be dangerous...that’s what scares them.” 

“I...I don’t understand.” 

“The world is old, Ciri. And there may be others that are far older. And what we know may change and that scares people who may lose everything they have.”

“Geralt’s friend. Magic, that’s not like yours. Or like theirs. A new sort they may not control. And considering how he’s acted, he’s not very keen on alliances and friendship.” Ciri stated. 

“Exactly. We’re no closer to figuring out what happened, but we know a bit more. We have to find out more answers before we reunite with Geralt and his Bard.” Yennefer said. 

“Who are we going to see next?” 

“I’m not sure. Yet. But come along.” 

* * *

As Jaskier walked in the direction that led to Rowena, he had to pause a bit and looked back. It happened more than once that after the fourth time, Geralt couldn’t keep quiet anymore. Though Jaskier saw Geralt try to look behind them with his keen Witcher senses to see whatever Jaskier was sensing. 

“What is it?” Geralt asked. When Jaskier ignored him and just kept going, Geralt let out a low growl and reached for Jaskier’s arm. Whatever patience he’s been able to hold on to, evaporated. “Jaskier! I need you to tell me what the fuck is going on!”

Jaskier pulled his arm away and turned to glare at Geralt. He opened his mouth and made ‘ta-da’ gestures with his arms, then faked shock when no noise came out. 

“You have other ways of communication!” Geralt argued. 

Jaskier breathed heavily through his nose before he pointed at Geralt, poking him in his chest, before gesturing to himself and then making a shoving away motion. Translating without words or magical psychic abilities the reminder of what _Geralt_ had wanted. Geralt wanted Jaskier away. 

“Jas…” 

Jaskier gave him a pointed glare at the shortening of his name. They weren’t friends. How they parted wasn’t how friends part! Geralt didn’t have a right to call him by any form of a nickname. 

“Jaskier.” Geralt tried again. “I’m sorry. Okay? I was very angry that day. Not at you. But you...you were _there!_ And you...you were _always_ there. My brooding and attitude never scared you off. No matter what danger or trouble I got into, you were willing to be by my side. And I guess I just...I thought...I _didn’t_ mean it.” The last bit he said imploringly, hoping Jaskier would believe him _and_ forgive him. 

Jaskier looked away from Geralt after his apology. He believed it. But that only made things more complicated. With Geralt ‘mad’ at him, thinking about going with Rowena might be easier. Now...well, he was led by emotions. He was still mad at Geralt, so he didn’t say he accepted the apology and kept walking. 

A few steps he feared Geralt finally had it with his attitude and would head another way. But really he was seemingly just waiting for Roach to come along. 

The silence that accompanied them was different now. Awkward. Definitely awkward. But he found himself realizing how much he’s missed Geralt. The anger was giving a slight way, yet he couldn’t yet bring himself to forgive the Witcher. 

They traveled a quarter of the day before Geralt grabbed his arm to stop him. Jaskier had been so focused on Rowena’s magical signature that he didn’t notice the oncoming magical threat until it was close enough for even Geralt to sense it. 

“Stand down, Witcher. It’s not you that we have business with.” 

“Hmm.” Geralt grumbled as he unsheathed his sword. “He’s currently incapable of answering. Whatever business you have with him, you deal with me first.”

The sorceress who had a hood over her face seemed irked but neither impressed nor threatened. “If you insist to drag this out. I’ll make this painful, just for you…” 

She lifted her hand and was about to cast a spell when she stilled. A portal between the threatening forces from Nilfgaard and the three of them opened. Suddenly the faint magical signature of Rowena pulsed powerfully all around Jaskier. He grabbed Geralt’s arm and pulled him towards the portal. Geralt pulled on Roach’s reigns and the three went through. 

Roach neighed wildly for a moment as she settled after portaling. Geralt was much the same, scrambling with his sword to his feet and looking around their new location. 

“Jaskier!” Geralt called out until he saw the bard stumbling to stand himself. His eyes then landed to the woman who helped Jaskier steady himself. 

The red-headed looked between them and making sure they were well off before smirking at them and greeting them properly.

“Hello, boys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly canon up until episode 6, after which I'm making it my own story. In case anyone's wondering about time lines. I...I haven't put too much thought into them so...it's more about the story being told and it's characters. 
> 
> Sorry it's been a while! It's been a hell of a year and we're barely into the first week of February. I've actually got the ending of this written out, I just have to fill out the middle bits xD 
> 
> I hope you guys are continuing to enjoy! <3


	6. Chapter 6

Geralt raised his sword and glared at the redhead, but he went ignored. Rowena focused on Jaskier, her smirk turning into a gentle smile as she approached him and moved some of his hair from his eyes. A very motherly move, that didn’t go unnoticed by Geralt. 

“Jaskier…” 

As insane as the last couple of days have been, Jaskier still found himself smiling warmly at her. Maybe because he felt like he was home when he was around her. He hasn’t had a home in ages. Being a nomadic bard, the sense of home wasn’t something that he was ever burdened with. 

Wandering the lands as he tried to make a life for himself, it’s been far lonelier than he likes to think about. Questioning his place in the grand scheme of things. He wasn’t human anymore, but he wasn’t like other mages either. Rowena and her magic were the closest things he has that feels remotely familiar. 

“You look tired, lad.” She comments. 

_‘I am. Exhausted…’_ He answered her telepathically. 

“I can imagine. But you’re here now. That’s what matters.” She told him softly. 

“Where is here?” Geralt broke the moment. He watched them carefully, trying to analyze who the redhead was. Though he’s seen Jaskier flirt and woo women of different classes and ages for different reasons, this didn’t seem like one of his scandalous relationships. Not one to beat around the bush, he demands, “Who are you?” 

Rowena’s shifted from caring and tender to a narrowing gaze as she looked at Geralt, “And here I thought only cats were curious, not wolves.” 

Jaskier couldn’t help but smirk. 

Geralt scowled at him but met the witch’s gaze with his own glare. “You know who I am.”

“With your hair, those swords, and talasman...how can anyone not know who ye are? Or that rather catchy tune?” Rowena asked. Though she mouthed a ‘sorry’ when she got a look from Jaskier. Looking back at Geralt she gave him a bit of a break and introduced herself. “My name is Rowena. I’m...a _friend_ of Jaskier, here.”

“Rowena?” Geralt asked with some surprise. He looked between the two of them, trying to read more into them. As he focused, he zeroed in on their power. It felt so similar. Rowena’s was far stronger but it was clear that this was almost a clear match for what Jaskier’s powers felt like. 

Rowena smiled proudly, “Ah, so ye’ve heard of me, have ye?” 

“From bandits and thieves mostly. Though I can only assume those from Nilfgaard were the ones who hired them.” Geralt deadpanned. 

“Those annoying bastards.” Rowena rolled her eyes deeply for them but waved it off dismissively. “They’re irrelevant.” 

“They’ve hired and conspired with bandits and Elves to kidnap Jaskier. All seemingly to get your whereabouts. That’s not irrelevant.” 

“Now that Jaskier’s safe with me, it is.” She told him. 

“How do I know he’s safe with you?” Geralt demanded. 

“ _As opposed to being with you?”_ Jaskier scoffed and asked telepathically, even though only towards Rowena. 

“As opposed to being with you?” She echoed Jaskier. 

“Hmmm…” Geralt growled with slight irritation. This woman meant something to Jaskier, that much was obvious. To what extent, he didn’t know. But having that many mages, especially from Nilfgaard after Jaskier and her, didn’t sit well with Geralt. “What do they want from you?”  
  


“Oh, it’s not me they want. Not really.” Rowena answered as she nudged to a direction with her head and had them follow. They were in a castle, but it was quiet so probably an abandoned one. Still, she led them through a few corridors before they arrived in a sitting room. She used her magic to summon tea and poured herself and Jaskier a cup. “Care for some tea, Witcher?” 

“Do you have ale?” Geralt asked as he watched Jaskier take a seat and accept his tea from the witch. 

Rowena summoned a few bottles with a smirk, “Choose yer poison.” 

Geralt didn’t look too convinced with the wording but picked something, whiffed it, before pouring it into a glass. As he inspected the contents of his glass a bit more, he asked, “If not you, do you know what Nilfgaard wants with you?”

Rowena’s eyes widened with excitement as she looked over to Jaskier. “There’s an event coming up!”

_“The full moon?”_ Jaskier asked with a head tilt. 

“Yes! The full moon that’s coming up is one that’s got plenty on the edge of their seat!” Rowena replied. 

“What’s so special about the coming full moon?” Geralt asked. 

“It’s a bit more than the typical full moon. It’s a celestial event that’s been centuries in the making! Nilfgaard, like I assume the other covens or whatever they’re called, wish to hone its power for themselves.” 

Geralt frowned at that, “How much power are we talking about?” 

“More than any of their wee feeble bodies can possess,” Rowena replied amused. "If they try...it will literally burn them from the inside out." 

“But power _you_ can maintain?” Geralt guessed. Stated more than asked. 

Rowena chuckled, “Oh, gods no. That amount of power would give even God himself a hell of a headache. No. _But_ ...I am possibly the only one who can _manipulate_ enough of its power without it killing me. So if you’re worried about anyone gettin’ a bit power hungry, fret not. If any mage wishes to tap into that amount of power, they’ll need to combine forces with every single member of magical kind within this nation. And based on my experience with politics...that’s as likely to happen as a Virgin birth.” 

Geralt listened, still not sure at all what to think about her. He looked over to Jaskier and tried to think about how to approach the subject he really wanted to touch on. It wasn’t the right moment though. “And what is it _you_ wish to use its power for?” 

She sipped her tea and leaned back into her seat. Sharing a smile with Jaskier she turned to look at Geralt, “I’m not from here. Make of that what you will. As fun as this escape has been...I find myself rather homesick. But the trouble I was trying to escape from involved a lot of power. It was a one-way trip. For a very long time, I assumed there was no hope of ever going home.”

“Until there was.” Geralt finished for her. 

She nodded to him sagely, “Until there was.” 

Jaskier watched them interact between fascination, since he never imagined this moment to ever be possible, and zoning out. Though he thought about leaving with Rowena while on his travel, it didn’t feel like he had to make a decisive choice. Now though...now it felt like he _had_ to make a choice. 

“You’ll be coming with me, won’t you dear?” Rowena asked Jaskier as she raised her cup to her lips, pinkie up in the air. Calm, cool, and collected. Even if the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. 

“ ** _What_**?” Geralt demanded. 

Rowena looked at Geralt calmly, “I’ve asked Jaskier to come with me. The world we’re going to will be full of adventure and amounts of comfort you’ve never believed! Not to mention, what does he have that’s keeping him here?”

“Has he actually agreed to go?” Geralt demanded. Jaskier couldn’t leave! Not permanently like this! 

“Not yet. We’ve been having some lapses in communication.”

  
  
“Because he was kidnapped and chained with magical restraints that were hurting him.” Geralt growled out. 

“Such savagery will be a thing of the past once we get to our new home. He’ll be safe, if that’s your concern, Witcher.” 

Geralt stood and faced Jaskier, “Let’s talk.” They stared down for a very long moment before Geralt struggled to get out a, “ _Please_.” 

  
Jaskier let out a deep breath before he stood. With a nod to Rowena, he telepathically said, “ _Wait here.”_ And then followed Geralt toward the doors so they could find a private place to communicate.


	7. Chapter 7

As Jaskier followed Geralt out towards the courtyard, he let his mind wander a bit. He wasn’t looking forward to this one-sided conversation, but it was a pivotal one.

During their training sessions, every once in awhile Rowena would make a comment or two about the world she was from. Usually in her stories of triumph and how she out-cunned one brute or another with her wit and charm, and of course, her magic. 

In the first couple of months, he didn’t see her homesickness because he didn’t want to. He held hatred for her, her magic, and his new circumstances. But as his anger fizzled out and their bond grew to what it was now, he learned to read her better. She was a very strong and independent witch. After too long of a personal reflection, Jaskier had to admit that another reason it took him longer than her charm for him to warm up to her _was_ that she reminded him of Yennifer. Someone he was jealous of and thought caused Geralt’s anger towards him that fateful day. But Rowena wasn’t Yennefer, though they could have been cut from the same cloth. She became as strong as she did by making sacrifices in dire moments, that she would later regret. Like the decisions that led her to flee to this world. 

Jaskier stared at the sky. Though it was day, the moon was partly visible. A key element in what could be the next chapter of his life...with Rowena. 

“Don’t go.” 

Geralt’s voice made him jump. He’d nearly forgotten the Witcher was near. Jaskier felt that if his anger from the beginning was as strong as it was then, he might not be so indecisive. His need to prove to Geralt of something might have been enough to keep. But time wasn’t the only thing that was different for him now, but it was something that affected his choice.

Time had passed and unsure of where he stood in Geralt’s life, he tried to move on from being the bard that would occasionally travel with him. Life as a mage wasn’t much of a life. Rowena made promises of him thriving, but really, Jaskier felt like he had to keep a balance. It took a lot of work, and control of his emotions, to focus on maintaining his magic that as he thought about his life on this plane of existence...what was keeping him there?

So he shrugged at Geralt and mouthed, _‘Why not?’_

“Because! _This_ is your world, Jaskier! What do you really know of the realm she wishes to take you to?” Gerald demanded. 

Again, he shrugged. ‘ _Not a lot. But_.' He paused and made sure Geralt was following his lip’s movements. Not everyone was used to lip reading, he’s come to annoyingly learn. ‘ _What do I have here in this one?’_

Jaskier could read some of the emotions that crossed Geralt’s face as he began to answer before the White Wolf cut himself off. They locked stares and Jaskier didn’t know what it was he wanted to hear from the other. 

From day one, Geralt’s made it pretty clear that Jaskier was expendable. Sure, whenever he found himself in trouble, Geralt saved him. With Jaskier, Geralt had to say those things, rather than let the actions speak for themselves. The things he said and the things he did told different stories each time. 

But for the most part, Geralt was convinced that Jaskier was human. So all the charm, luck, and devious mischief Jaskier could use to get himself out of trouble when Geralt wasn’t near...he was still human. He aged and got sick. 

Things were different now. 

For a variety of reasons. 

Geralt wasn’t a loner anymore. Having more than Roach as he takes on the role of Ciri’s mentor. His relationship with Yennifer as she joins him in parenting and mentoring Ciri has developed, even if it’s remained nameless. They’ve become a sort of family...but it still feels unfinished to him. The last couple of years that he hasn’t seen nor heard of tales of the Bard who sang his song...something bitter nestled in the pit of his stomach. That bitterness remained and grew until he came across Jaskier in that pub.

Now that he wasn’t human, now that he aged slower...there were better chances! 

Yet he couldn’t say the words aloud. 

They were selfish words. 

Just because he wanted to keep Jaskier didn’t mean he wanted to stay. 

“Think about it carefully. From what she says, coming back may not be an easy option.” 

As if going was. But Jaskier literally and emotionally, couldn’t say that to Geralt. 

* * *

“Welcome.” Fringilla greeted with a cold smile that didn’t reach her eyes. 

“Are we?” The sorcerer asked, skepticism very deeply woven into the question. 

Fringilla merely chuckled and answered honestly. “For now. And as long as you try nothing foolish.”

The sorcerer glared, “Watch your tone, girl-” 

Fringilla let her eyes glow and unleash a burst of power that was...new. She’d been playing around with some new things, in advance planning for the upcoming full moon. Though she could temporarily hold more power, it _was_ sadly only temporary. Though it could be a perfect time to attack, if they couldn’t maintain a fraction of that power after the sunrise that followed this full moon, then they could easily lose whatever they newly gained. She didn’t like that. 

“How did you-?”

“Old traditions pave the way to new tricks,” Fringilla said with a small smirk. 

“That so?” The sorcerer could now read more into where this was going. And what it could mean for him and the Brotherhood. 

“Yes. Some traditions kept close to the heart of those unwilling to share as much as those that go uncared for by those who deem them unneeded. Perhaps because of who wrote them.” 

“Witches rather than warlocks?” Said more as a statement than a question, and only responded with a forced smile by Fringilla. “What do you want?”

“Same as you. A chance to hone the power of the upcoming celestial event. And live.” 

* * *

  
  
Rowena watched them go, slightly worried about what the Witcher’s influence would be on Jaskier. She has come to love him like a son. Since training him as a mage, they weren’t enough to be a coven, but they were family. 

She was adamant about getting back to her own world. Though she could thrive well enough in this one...there was a lot of political chaos! 

And okay, maybe...maybe she missed some of the modern practices and hygiene she’d gotten used to in the 21st century. She was sure that Jaskier would love the modern age! 

Or was that just her selfishness coming through? Her fear of being alone? That nagging feeling of having failed so epically at being a mother rearing its ugly head? 

Looking away from the two in the courtyard, she walked to another window and looked up at the sky. Whatever choice Jaskier was going to make, it would be soon. And she can’t say for sure that she will be able to stay quiet or still when the time comes to leave. Leaving Jaskier, and part of her magic, in this realm didn’t sit well with her.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [His Last Song: The White Wolf's Lullaby](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22276330) by [JackMcGarrett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackMcGarrett/pseuds/JackMcGarrett)




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